


nothing but you

by tepidfluff



Series: snapshots [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Era, Established Relationship, M/M, mentions of drinking, mentions of smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:42:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27173278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tepidfluff/pseuds/tepidfluff
Summary: Akaashi is inebriated. Bokuto fetches him.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: snapshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989121
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	nothing but you

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Eat, Sleep, Wake (Nothing But You) by Bombay Bicycle Club.

His skin tingles. Every touch effervesces. Transient. Despite the remnant zing of flavors on his tongue from the yakitori and curry he devoured earlier, he somehow can’t feel his jaw. His lips feel loose and raw and demanding of touch, and he bites it with a bit more force only to feel pointed sensations of teeth against skin. His eyelids carry weight, and tension accumulates at the wings of his shoulders down to the base of his spine.

The room is dark, save for sharp flashes of the television screen, and the straight cut focus of neon-colored lights placed strategically in the ceiling. 

Akaashi went out drinking with his co-workers, in a quasi-fancy karaoke bar in Shinjuku where his seniors had drunk a couple of 9% flavored Suntory beer enough to loosen their ties and pass around the mic as they sang to the tunes of Monobright and Superfly. It’s a Saturday, and Udai-san skipped the festivities in favor of charting the outlines of his new series. His fellow editor, Ito-san, remained cooped up in the office to finalize drafts for the upcoming conclusion of his space horror manga. It was a good story. Too bad it had to come to an end so soon.

They might have shared one or two drinks talking about work, writing, unclenching and letting go.

  
  


“Akaashi-san, you seem a bit preoccupied,” Mayama-san comments. He’s one of the more dependable personalities in the four-walled entrapment. Like Akaashi, he painstakingly goes through each panel of every page submitted on his desk, inspects every unchecked line art and color filling that might have gone unnoticed if not for his hawk-eye sharpness. He calls his mangaka more for assurance than meticulous confirmation of the plot and abrupt shifts in storylines. Among their colleagues, Mayama-san is venerated as the peak version of any young editor. Akaashi sees a lot of his colleagues aspiring to be like him, inspired by the tide of energy and enthusiasm that enveloped the man.

“Ah, I apologize for concerning you. No need to worry about me.” Akaashi stares intently at his phone, typing out some message only he can discern amidst the swirling neon lucidness and bass-filled tune of the karaoke room.

Akaashi had come to know about Mayama-san since he first set foot in Shonen Vai. He was the first one to approach him, to ask him about his food preferences one lunch following his official enlistment in the team. One too many times, they’ve shared each other’s company in the nearest konbini. Mayama-san was cheerful and generous enough to buy Akaashi one too many pre-packed onigiri. The indulgence was unwarranted, but Akaashi was grateful nonetheless. 

Bokuto once joked one night about how Mayama-san might be infatuated with him. Akaashi would’ve been bothered by the notion if not for the way Bokuto kissed him silly in all junctures and corners of his body, from his bony temples to the softest sections of his belly. 

  
  


“Do you want to, maybe, smoke outside?” Mayama-san casually asks. He’s sporting his ridiculous charming grin that almost mimics Bokuto’s but falls short in all aspects. His linen sleeves are folded awkwardly just above his elbows.

“I’m good, Mayama-san. I’m just waiting for Bokuto-san to fetch me.” Akaashi replies nonchalantly, cheeks colored with a tinge of failing sobriety and a bit more inebriation. Mayama-san flashes him a constrained grin, hums a dismissive _okay, if you say so_ , then proceeds to march outside the chatterbox of the karaoke filled with the din of MIDI noise. 

Akaashi checks his phone once or twice. It pings, celebrating the arrival of a much-awaited message. _I’m outside already_ , the message says, accompanied by a series of emojis that couldn’t be read if not for the updated iOS Bokuto insisted on installing. Even after all these years, his heart still skips a beat whenever Bokuto’s message appears on the screen. Akaashi smiles, wide and beaming.

Nothing mattered as long as Bokuto’s here, physical or otherwise. Of course, at any time, he prefers breathing in the solid musculature and indefatigable spirit that is his partner, prefers spending his time grasping thin garments that cover pale white skin, opposite to the warm, cozy feeling emitted by the chest that nestles his head.

Akaashi feels warm at the mere thought of all the lazy weekends they spent together, and the many more they will share in the future.

He stands up wobbly and fishes his coat from the rack, a tan-colored simple button-up Bokuto bought for him to celebrate his 20th birthday. He sends hearty respectful goodbyes to his workmates, to his senior editors, manga artists, and associate staff who would probably stay a while longer.

Down the hallway, he spots Mayama-san entering the premises, shoulders hunched in such a way when deadlines run too tight for his liking. Akaashi prepares his casual _I’m heading home, thank you for the invitation_ , _I’ll see you Monday,_ but his premeditated cordial goodbye is cut off when he sees the usually gelled up black and ashen hair collecting underneath the gray beanie peeking from outside the automated glass door. A smile graces his features. He disguises his hurry with a curt nod of his head and thanks Mayama-san all the same. 

The walk from the spot where he bid goodbye to Mayama-san to where the automatic glass door clears the path is worth five long strides. Once he hears the pressure ease to give way to the parting of glass panes, Akaashi all but briskly walks to his lover. The man turns around, sensing his approach. Akaashi notices he’s wearing his favorite green bomber jacket. 

_Hey love,_ Bokuto says, and Akaashi’s heart skips a beat once more. Like inverted Ionic columns, his lips curl. Soft cheeks yield to the feeling and form charming dimples. 

Similar to a clockwork gesture of a setter vice-captain and a wing spiker ace, their limbs move and settle instantly, all falling in its proper place - on the waist, around the shoulder. Akaashi encases Bokuto’s neck with his arms, hands securely entwined on the man’s nape. Bokuto dips down to kiss him, licks his lips to taste the remnants of flavored Suntory and curry in his mouth. Akaashi feels Bokuto smile against the kiss, then dips again once more, but this time, to fill his mouth with the cool remnant of fresh mint toothpaste. 

Akaashi feels his lips tingle. But not with the brine feeling of sobriety and inebriation that once consumed his being anymore. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I have Feelings towards Temari_AM's bkak fanart titled "be my lover every night"


End file.
